


Wear Your Heart On Your Sleeve

by Momochi789



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:34:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momochi789/pseuds/Momochi789
Summary: What makes a canonical death different from any other? It’s the mental toll.This is my first fic and honestly I wrote it within the first three periods of school so I can’t say this is actually good. So if anyone reads this and likes it, um, cool
Relationships: Wilbut Soot & TommyInnit
Kudos: 14





	Wear Your Heart On Your Sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always thought the idea of the canon lives were cool. Along with what makes a canon death. Betrayal? Guilt? Regret? Who knows maybe it’s something beyond my understanding.

Tommy remembers seeing it for the first time. Three little red hearts on his wrist. It had been explained to him that any death with a great mental effect would take away one of these hearts. After all of them were gone he wouldn’t come back. When he had asked why only three, he was told that after three one’s mental state can’t handle the trauma of the three canon deaths. Tommy scoffed at the idea after all dying on the server, while it still hurt, it never really took a toll on anyone. It was common for people to fall from great heights and slip into lava. What would be so different about a canon life?

Emotions. That was the difference between them. Overwhelming emotions. Yes someone can be angry about losing all their stuff in lava, but nothing compared to a canon death’s effect. 

The Final Control Room  
Tommy’s excitement was through the roof. Eret promised a secret weapon that could win them the war. All of them followed him down to the Final Control Room. They had hope. They could win this.  
Then he heard the click. “Down with the revolution boys. It was never meant to be.” That’s the last thing Tommy heard before being cut down. They had been betrayed. He was betrayed. This death hurt more than anything had before. Not because he was cut down, but because the betrayal burned like salt on a wound. When he had awoken again he hadn’t noticed it at first because this was just another death right? But one of the hearts on his wrist had faded away. His first canon life had faded away.

The Duel  
Tommy was still fuming from Eret’s betrayal, but then Dream had the audacity to insult their efforts as if they were fools. He wouldn’t stand for that. They shouldn’t stand for that. He looked at Wilbur who seemed to be accepting it. Why was he accepting this? Dream was belittling their efforts! If Wilbur wasn’t going to defend his honor then Tommy would.  
Now he’s preparing for a duel. A dual that decided the fate of his country. The pain of his first death was still ingrained in his mind. As he prepared he turned to Wilbur again, “Do I shoot ‘im Wil or do I aim for the skies?” Wilbur placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Tommy I want you to do, I want you to do whatever your heart says.”   
On the walkway he heard Wilbur count and he took his first step. If he aimed for the skies would that ensure that he lives? His second step. It’s not likely. Third step. If he chose to shoot would it hit? Fourth. Would they win? Fifth. And if he lost? Sixth. They would lose everything they worked so hard for. Seventh. He would make their efforts look foolish. Eighth. He had to win this for them. Ninth. He would shoot Dream. “Ten paces fire!” Tommy spun around and as soon as he released the arrow he realized he failed. Everything they worked for disintegrated in a single moment. He wished he could see Wilbur’s disappointed face. What did they all think of him at that moment? They must have hated him. Had he been alive he would have cried. Before respawning he had a vision. Dark silhouettes in revolutionary uniforms clung onto him keeping him in place. He wanted to run, but they held on tighter. In the distance he sees him and Tubbo listening to the disks. Wilbur’s voice rings in his head, “I want you to do whatever your heart says.” Tommy listened and the phantom hands let go, taking another heart with them.

Tommy held onto his final life for a long time. He was careful. He had to hold himself back from running in and saving Tubbo. Perhaps he could have saved him, but fear held him back. Had he truly been upset with Techno? Techno had never been good under pressure. Tommy could have stepped in. He could have protected Tubbo, but he didn’t.   
Their final fight for L’Manberg had gone surprisingly well. Tubbo had taken his place as president and things were going to be better. Then everything fell apart. Explosions ruptured through the ground. When the dust cleared Wilbur was already dead and Phil stood in his place. Techno went on his rampage destroying anything that was still standing. All that and Tommy still held onto his final life.  
In exile he came so close to throwing it away. So close to just jumping. But he didn’t. He walked away and joined Techno. He picked up the pieces of his life and kept going. He wasn’t going to waste his final life.  
Doomsday terrified Tommy. The chances of him actually dying was pretty high. Yet uck was on his side. Despite the many close calls he lived. l’Manberg fell, but everyone who made it still stood in the morning.   
Then he and Tubbo fought Dream. In all honesty he thought this was the end for both of them. The fight went as well as you would expect. The three headed to Dream’s base and when the two of them accepted their defeat, they were saved by a miracle. Dream was arrested. It was over. They were free. Tommy and Tubbo sat at the bench again to listen to the disks. And then Wilbur showed up. The conversation was interesting to say the least. It ended with Wilbur saying, “I’ll see you soon, Tommy.” Tommy smiled, “See you soon, Big Man.”

The Prison  
Tommy had been stuck there for a while now. The week was almost over and then he would be out and he would never come back. That’s how it should’ve gone. He should have left and opened the hotel, hung out with his friends, had closure. He never makes it out of the prison. The final heart on his wrist fades away from his pummeled corpse. 

“Hey Wil.”  
“Tommy?”  
“I told you I would see you soon.”  
“Hah, you did, you did.”  
“Did I do alright?”  
“You did perfect, Toms. You did perfect.”  
“Do you think they’ll bring me back?”  
“Probably, do you want to go back?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Tommy?”  
“Hm?”  
“Do you want my opinion?”  
“...Nah, I gotta do what my heart says. Can’t have you changing my mind.”  
“I’m guessing I’ll see you again soon then.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Don’t come back here anytime soon.”  
“I won’t.”

A small white heart forms on his wrist.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wanted to expand on this so if this is received well then maybe I’ll rewrite it more in-depth. I would really appreciate feedback.


End file.
